Sink Trap by Christy Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

the rest of the evening free. Want to cash in that rain check? I’ll bring dinner.” There was a pause, like he was waiting for me to pick up, then he said, “Just call me when you get in. We’ll figure something out.”
    I realized I was clutching my bathrobe around me, as though Wade were actually in the room with me.
    Loosen up, Neverall!
    I promised myself I’d call him back as soon as I was dressed.
    The last call was from Paula. “Hi, Georgiana.” Her usually cheery voice was at least an octave higher with stress. “I’ve looked everywhere for an address for Martha Tepper, but the only one I have is the house here, which doesn’t help at all. I would have sworn she talked to me about Tucson, but I can’t find an address, and I don’t have a new phone number, either. I tried the old one, but it just rang and rang, like you said. I called a couple people who should have her address and phone, but nobody does.” Her voice rose until she was nearly squeaking. “It’s not like her to just leave without checking in with somebody. I mean, she used to send me postcards when she went to weekend conferences. Give me a call as soon as you can, and maybe we can track down her new address. Or something. Please. Thanks! Bye.”
    The machine clicked off, and I rewound it to listen to Paula’s message again. Although she didn’t say she was worried, the strain in her voice told me clearly how upset she was. It would be easy to do some in-depth computer searching, but from what I’d seen at the library, Paula wasn’t all that computer savvy. That would be the first thing I’d show her.
    After a shower and clean clothes, I felt much better. Miss Tepper and her brooch were certainly a mystery—one that was beginning to be a serious worry—but not one I was going to solve on a Friday night.

    I called Wade’s cell, and cashed my rain check.
    “How about pizza from Garibaldi’s? I seem to remember it was your favorite.” His tone was light, but I got the sense that he was testing both our memories.
    “Sorry! I had their pizza last night. I’ve got leftovers in my fridge. It’s still the best,” I added hastily.
    Wade was quiet for a moment, probably thinking. It wasn’t like the town had a lot of options.
    “How about Tiny’s, then?” he said.
    “Sounds fine,” I replied. “Are they as good as everybody says?”
    “Better. But you’ve been back long enough to know that, haven’t you?”
    “Not really.” I shrugged, then realized he couldn’t see the gesture over the phone, and felt a bit silly. “How about if I meet you there?”
    “I’m just leaving the office,” he said. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
    “Okay. See you in five.”
    Daisy and Buddha gave me their best sad doggy eyes as I headed out the front door. “I’ll bring a doggy bag,” I said to assuage the guilt they managed to inspire. “Promise.”
    Tiny’s was packed. The only tavern in Pine Ridge, it was the place to go on Friday nights, and tonight was no exception.
    Wade snagged us a table, and elbowed his way to the bar.
    I looked around Tiny’s while I waited. It was a place I always heard about as a kid, the spot where everyone gathered after work and on weekends, but it was strictly for adults. As a child, it had seemed exotic and forbidden, full of mysteries and magical smells, none of which I understood, but all of which I craved.
    Now I realized it was just a small-town tavern with battered and mismatched wooden tables and chairs, a dark wood bar, a couple beer taps, and a jukebox in the corner of a postage-stamp-size dance floor. The smells were no
longer magical, just fry grease, smoke, and beer, though they still made my mouth water.
    As for the mysteries, I suspected they were still there.
    “I ordered chicken baskets,” Wade said when he returned with a couple schooners of draft, sinking into the wooden chair next to me. “Strips, fries, and the best cole slaw you’ve ever had.”
    “Pizza last